a place.

napowrimo #1

early in the crisp forgotten winter,
our morning, you hissed, like
slushing snow on tires in my ear

our bed, our pillows oxymorons
for a place we wish we were
but cannot be,
a place we dodge by
blaming lingered hours,
daylight saving, or the weather

the streets are no place for
a failing spring, but crisp and
crumpled
bedding is
a spring we’ve yet to see

it is absolutely spring.

i have a blog, and i use it. and sometimes it’s horrible, but sometimes it’s awesome. people have even called it awesome. well, they’ve generally used their vocabularies when describing it. but still.

and it’s spring.

i spend more money than i have on lovely things that are new, things that were not things in my last apartment. oh and i plan things. all the time. but i still haven’t changed my address everywhere. but i do plan things.

i have super nintendo again, and i have started to become sentimental about new things. a post-it without words on it is hanging on my wall, actually without words. without a quotation from an office i haven’t worked at in weeks.

and it’s spring.

i found all these pieces, around my room, because when i moved into my last room it was winter and i was having pieces literally thrown onto my shoulders. i found the pieces around my room because i was unpacking a room i had built of them alone.

but pieces, even when you slide them into plinko slots, or tear them so they only fit a certain way, will blow across the tile. sometimes on their own but also, other times, when someone forces breath on them.

anyway, it’s spring. and all those pieces are in my closet in a hat i turned upside-down.

not thrown out, because i’m me.

but it is spring now. almost summer. and i’m going home. and i have fish. and i still hear traffic. and i played catch on friday night with my hand inside a sweaty baseball glove. and i made a promise to myself, a long time ago, before even last spring, or the spring before.

i’m going to let myself have the happy instead. or at least try for it. again. because it’s spring, and i have this new post-it. and the nintendo. and these new lovely things that can only belong here. and walking along the canal with my new roommate, which wasn’t even my idea, which is nice.

and pieces, hidden. which is also nice, because i’m me, and because it’s spring.

pros & cons.

this morning i made a pretty wonderful pros and cons list to address my increasingly ridiculous ‘life’ situation. there are 10 pros and only 7 cons. at these stages i always make silly decisions that most people would probably regret and i never do, i stumble awkwardly through a series of encounters i didn’t really want to find myself in but don’t mind once they happen, don’t care once they’re over, don’t remember why i did it and feel good knowing it doesn’t matter. i’ve always done the same thing, just over and over on repeat and later i find the most comfort not in the actions themselves but in the fact that i’m still me, i’m a revolving door always, i always go back to being alone in my head because i’m the only person i trust completely and, too much of the time, the only person i like. i know that it isn’t perfect because sometimes it’s nice to have someone kickin’ it to be alone with, but i never like when things are too perfect anyway.

i’ve been sorting everything again, and cutting and pasting and organizing all my pictures into online scrapbooks. i dance just about everywhere i walk, i sit in the windows of my apartment and count the cars going by because part of me wonders how many will come and go from my life before i don’t have the option anymore. i watch movies in my bed as i fall asleep and drink tall glasses of water, i kill bugs and forget to shower until it’s too late. i haven’t lost my focus and smoked to the filter in what must be months now, weeks have unraveled. i’ve started video scrapbooks for the apartment, with matt, it’s absolutely fabulous, i’m trying to remember that i don’t want to forget. it gives me something incredible to look forward to even as everything disappears, because every detail is recorded, i record just about everything because i know one day i’ll push myself away from it. i wouldn’t want it to be another way.

overhaul.
it’s completely personal. i can dig it. this is the first time in three years, potentially ever, that i’ve used all three sections of a notebook. not for different purposes.

we used to smoke cigarettes
together on the
backs of benches, you were
younger and even though
they’re all younger you
were the youngest, it was
a sign i wasn’t
serious, that it wouldn’t work,
you talked about trains
you’d never take, i talked
about smoke rings and the sky,
i said i’d take the train too,
the magic of forgetting
on my tongue, i don’t know
what we thought
would happen but i’m glad
it never did because
now i still have you, and i love you
to death

 

tree climbing.

in addition to pretty much anything, i will do this:

to end up here:

tree climbing, park walking, tulip smelling, duck watching, sun burning, cloud gazing, grass laying, long walk taking, footprint leaving, super deals on sodas kind of day.

thanks for the boost and the good times, bronson friends.